


Take Good Care

by shippingandrecieving



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Eating Disorders, FACPOV, Getting Together, Kallus doesn't take care of himself, Kallus has anxiety, M/M, Mention of Dodonna, Mention of Yogar Lyste, Pre-Relationship, Rebel Lyste, Zeb is the best, descriptions of injuries, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29837829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingandrecieving/pseuds/shippingandrecieving
Summary: The five times Kallus winds up in Yavin's medbay and, subsequently, in front of Huon the very exasperated medic.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 26
Kudos: 65
Collections: Kalluzeb: From a Certain Point of View ~ challenge





	1. Chapter 1

It started with bruises. 

The _Ghost_ had landed with the rest on the small jungle moon with the remnants of Massassi group, bashed up and scorched by Imperial weapons fire just like those inside it. Medbay had been the first facility set up, and subsequently filled to bursting with the battle's wounded. 

He had come in last; trembling and hobbling, favouring his left side and eyes so wide they looked as round as the moon they had taken refuge on. And one such eye horrifically blackened.

Huon had startled at the sight, and ordered his newest patient to sit on the only free bed they had remaining. Somehow, the human's face had drained even paler in the silent few seconds after the medic had spoken. 

"C'mon, Kallus," Captain Orrelios coaxed, the Lasat member of the Spectres being the only thing keeping commander Sato's Fulcrum agent upright. "Sit down, before yer fall."

Kallus' throat worked around a heavy swallow, and he eyed the medical bed as though it would unveil sharp teeth and bite him in two if he drew any closer.

Orrelios' big hand began to rub in soothing circles and he gently pushed Kallus forward with the added pressure of his grounding touch, stepping up beside him to stay within the injured man's periphery. 

It couldn't really be called a step, more of a wobbling hop with his right leg hanging crooked. Huon frowned, as the closer Kallus came the worse he looked. Lower lip was split and swollen, that stark black eye, and a dribbling cut on his forehead that narrowly missed bisecting an eyebrow, instead matting the fine golden hairs red and sticky.

The broken limb -and ribs judging by the awkward twist of his torso- were obvious, and needed treating immediately without delay. As did the source of all the blood coating the cuffs of his tattered ISB uniforms sleeves.

Huon fought to keep his expression as kind as he could with anger burning the insides of his ribs. Imperials didn't rise so high within their ranks without having a sadistic fascination with torture; rumor had it that Lothal's governor would spend her down hours deep in the detention levels, _enjoying herself._ That thought alone had him disgusted.

Kallus' hands had begun to tremble, and it was only Captain Orrelios' calming words that kept their latest defector from fleeing any way he could.

Huon tried to smile reassuringly. It felt too much like a grimace. "Sit, please. No harm will come to you here." 

Kallus didn't look at all convinced and his wide eyes flicked searchingly across to Garazeb's.

"Captain," Huon spoke quietly, keeping his voice soft to not startle Kallus' already tearing nerves. "Would you stay here while I fetch my kit? Keep our patient calm." He added, a smile coming a little more naturally this time around.

The soft whisper of the Lasat's words carried as Huon stepped away into the little prefab office; a hushed but sincere offer of help. The twi'lek kept his head down, pretending to rummage through a crate to uphold the illusion of privacy as captain Orrelios wrapped his hands around the former Agent Kallus' too thin waist and lifted him to sit on the edge of the medical bed. Scarlet dashed across the human's pale face and both of the Lasat's ears pointed back, an uncertain tick for both of them and for the briefest stutter of a heartbeat it was also something else.

Huon had, by the tip of fate's hand, witnessed the allude to that something on Atollon. The penny drop moment where Agent Kallus and Sato's Fulcrum had proven to be one and the same man had elicited that exact same ear flick, accompanied by a nervous rub against the back of his neck and look of vertigo all rolled into the same scant handful of moments.

Commander Bridger's incredulous and teasing voice still rang clear within the medic's mind. "When you were stuck on that ice moon with him?" 

The tale of the two men stranded on Geonosis' icy satellite had been regaled time and time again with increasing absurdity by the youngest member of the Ghost crew, to the embarrassment of his adoptive older brother and the amusement of everyone. 

That story didn't seem so far fetched as the medic returned with a medical box tucked under one arm to watch captain Orrelios gently settle a pillow under Kallus' broken leg, and one more under his elbow to cushion his damaged ribs.

Huon subtly bit down down his lower lip, certain he had witnessed a similar scene in an old holonovel where it took half of the entire narrative for the principal characters' hands to brush together and flex in aching parting a few moments later.

Garazeb's hand rose to cup Kallus' shoulder as he tensed suddenly, muscles bunching at the sight of the medical kit.

" 's okay, Kal," Zeb murmured, rubbing his clawed thumb in soothing little circles, "we're gonna fix yer up, okay?"

Kallus dug his fingers into the thin sheet beneath him, anchoring himself still as the anxious tremors in his hands shook up the length of his arms. He turned his wide eyes back up to the Lasat at his side, and some of the balled up tension began to unfurl simply at the grounding sight of him. 

Garazeb's presence was a balm to many, and if the story of Agent Kallus' defection was also a true one, the handsome Lasat's uniquely charming and compassionate nature had steered the former Imperial from his bloody course.

Huon used the helpful distraction to draw the curtain closed, offering them some semblance of privacy in the still full room. "No sense in drawing this out," The twi'lek acknowledged with a small nod, "the sooner this is done the sooner you can rest." 

Kallus' throat worked around a swallow, but a little glimmer of that rebel hope warmed the rebel medic's heart as the wounded man nodded along. 

"Good man," Huon whispered with a smile, setting down the supply box and popping open the lid with a flick of his thumbs. "Let's get this leg splinted for starters…"


	2. Chapter 2

Dawn on Yavin IV was spectacular. The morning was cool for once, the herald to obscene humidity before an earth shaking storm. 

The humans on the rebel base, as soon as the deluge began, would shuck their jackets and boots and stand out in the rain, laughing and cheering in relief. Huon would join them sometimes, to alleviate the shadows of a foul mood or despair over the need to cool off. Ryloth wasn't a humid planet, but it was airy and warm. 

The last downpour, kindly old Dodonna had come out to join them with his hands on a young detector's shoulders as always. The general stood them a little way out of the crowd and tipped his smile upwards as thunder cracked. Lyste, an odd case in seeing through the Imperial propaganda from their prison cells, had swallowed nervously and copied. 

Huon had turned away, linking his hands and laughing with an excitable weequay, but the sound of Lyste's quiet laughter at getting soaked was a sound he still held close. 

The medic idly adjusted his headpiece, rolling the cramping of sleep from his neck. The last few missions had gone off without a singular hitch, luck or the force or something was on their side as the only injury Huon had had to see to was a Wookie's singed fingertips from patching up a temperamental old ship.

With no immediate disasters, save the oppressive squeeze of the Empire's proverbative heel, word around base turned inward to gossip chains and betting pool results.

Huon rounded the corner and froze at the sound of voices. 

"Don't you think that Kallus fellow from Intel looks a bit thin?" 

A deep sigh emptied the air from the twi'lek's lungs and he squeezed his eyes shut, silently cursing the Empire and all the invisible damage it caused too.

Imperial views on 'a healthy weight' made Huon feel ill; too many defectors from the lower navy ranks and stormtroopers were almost half their projected weights, and coaxing them to consume more than a singular ration bar a day was a struggle on both sides. 

The night Kallus was bought in, before leaving him to rest, Huon had asked him to eat something along with the painkillers. The wary look in those bruised eyes should have been the first give away that their fulcrum spy held the same mindset. 

The medic turned on his heel and paced back the way he had come, fumbling for his commlink as he walked. 

It was rare to see Kallus at all, or in anyone's company, but the infamous crew of the Ghost were known for their tenacity, -among other features. 

He smiled faintly at the memory of Ezra Bridger futilely trying to get Kallus to laugh, following the former Imperial around on Draven's various errands repeating his awful jokes. It had taken a not so accidental collision with the lowered arm of an X-wing for Kallus to do so much as snort quietly, and help the young Jedi up before shooing him away.

Huon adjusted the frequency to the Ghost's onboard comm and held the little device to his lips. "Medical to Ghost. Spectre two, do you read?"

He knew Hera Syndulla from home, not well, but they had met a few times as children. It was her who inspired Huon and his brothers to launch themselves through the Ryloth blockade and despite all odds and critical systems failure they had made it.

After a few moments, and a swallow of her mouthful of hot caf, she spoke. _"Spectre two here."_

 _"Kassurra,"_ he greeted pleasantly, not having much opportunity to converse in Ryl day to day, "If you see Kallus this morning could you send him over, he's been avoiding me, I think."

Silence followed. After a moment, and what sounded like the awkward shuffling of boots and mumbling, Hera spoke again.

 _"We'll be right there."_ There was a decisive edge to her voice, the kind she used when at the helm during a battle.

Huon uttered a quick farewell and stowed his comm back in his pocket. Hera had a way with getting things done when they needed to be, with her passionate words or a grip on someone's scruff. With Kallus, the method for now appeared to be the scruffing.

He adjusted the weights in his headpiece again as he turned into the wide room that had been turned into Massassi temple's infirmary, disquieted at the sight of medbay empty despite that being what medics throughout the galaxy worked towards.

The medbay office door closed with a click, nudged shut by the press of his heel. It was a cosy little room, warmed and lit by jungle sunlight, with a desk and several comfortable chairs pushed against the wall. Huon scooped up two mugs by their handles from the cabinet beside the desk to settle under the hot water tap of their smuggled in caf machine, one red tea tab in each. The entire base knew it was there of course, but after the stealthy efforts of Hirani and Firith in getting it to their younger brother, even the leadership smiled and pointedly looked away.

A tentative knock on the door behind him startled Huon from his thoughts, and he quickly grabbed two ration bars from the box beside the machine. 

"One moment!" He called, voice light, as he laid out the two bars on the desk along with their steaming mugs of sweetened tea.

The twi'lek flicked his singular lek back over a shoulder as he thumbed the button to open the door, still not entirely used to having just the one despite the weights. 

The glow of morning sun shone off Kallus' golden hair; it seemed duller now, the former Imperial too exhausted to be admired. He stood tall, back straight more from anxiety than old habits, pinned in place by a delicate ungloved hand on his shoulder. Hera stood beside him, a concerned frown pulling her brows together.

Kallus swallowed, lifeless gaze falling to his boots. His scarred hands curled themselves tightly into fists, bulging in his too loose jacket's pockets. 

Huon sighed softly through his nose, lips pursing at the sight of him. Too pale, struggling to hold himself upright, eyes sunken and bruised from a lack of decent sleep. Alexsandr Kallus looked like a man one breath from breaking.

He could almost hear the dejected excuses already; _it's a waste of food, I've already taken your medical supplies, I can't steal food too, I don't deserve it..._

"Come on, captain," the young medic said softly, opening the door to the office a little wider in invitation, "come sit down with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been able to find a comprehensive list of Ryl words, so I've gone with kassurra as a greeting.
> 
> If anyone's found something better let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Here's a little bit about my boy:
> 
> Huon is only a few years older than Hera, leaving Ryloth when he and a few friends decided that the larger rebellion was the place they needed to be. 
> 
> He's missing the lower half of one lekku, the loss affects his balance so he wears a weighted headpiece during the day.


End file.
